I was trying to nail down some sort of tagline for my blog. In a casual brainstorming conversation, my father-in-law of all people thoughtfully proclaimed: “Mildly misbehaving.”
“Yes! THAT! ‘Mildly misbehaving.’ That has to be part of it.”
Something about the phrase felt like the perfect filling, sandwiched between “Mothering” and “Making life matter.” It’s the stuff in the middle and oozing out the edges where things get messy. Or I make them so.
It’s not about (occasionally) cussing. (Although that happens.)
Mildly misbehaving is being willing to say the thing that most of us are thinking. Even when – especially when – I don’t yet know anyone else is thinking remotely the same thing.
Mildly misbehaving is wrestling with God. Wondering out loud. Knowing that if He truly is as good and strong as He claims to be, then His character can most definitely stand up to the questions and wonderings of His kids.
Mildly misbehaving is telling the truth about myself. And the truth about God. And so recognizing a grace that’s bigger and better than we could’ve ever known otherwise. Sugar-coating myself and dumbing-down God leaves me with a watered-down grace that can’t quench a thirst.
Mildly misbehaving is refusing to sit quietly with a painted-on smile, nodding in agreement as the current carries me along.
Is it time for you to mildly misbehave now and then?